send your heartbeat, i'll go
by haupetals
Summary: She recognizes it, she feels it, she knows it. Branch is home. Broppy oneshot series.
1. afternoons

**a/n: hello, everyone! it's just me, putting in my two cents. these are, for the most part, human aus! feel free to request a prompt with these two, just pm me or whatever and i'll do my best to get to it. branch's last name is holloway and poppy's last name is springs. rated m for branch's sailor's mouth...the little bitch...also for some sexual-ish content? talking about butts and some makeouts? thats it though unless something changes. i hope you enjoy!**

* * *

i. _afternoons_

* * *

Sunlight peeks through the drapes of their apartment, alighting the dust specks twirling in the orange air. Branch likes these afternoons. They're squeezed in between work, school, parties, and impromptu adventures. (Adventures like.. palm-readings from sketchy people in the alleys on the way home from the grocery store. It was Poppy's idea. Branch has five years left, according to an unfortunate freckle on his palm. Five years left _until what?_ They wouldn't say. _Branch still thinks about it, it keeps him awake at night-_ ) Anyways. Branch likes these afternoons.

"Your ears twitch," Poppy giggles sleepily, her fingers dragging from their usual thread through his hair to the tips of his ears. Branch frowns, blinking. He squirms uncomfortably from his spot with his head in her lap and the rest of his body lounging on the couch.

"They _what?"_

"They twitch! Whenever I touch you by surprise or- or! When you listen to something like... _really_ intently," She explains, lightly tracing his ears with her fingertips. He shudders.

Branch's eyes dart up to her twinkling ones, "I think that's fucking weird."

She blushes and rips her gaze from his, doing a God-awful job at studying a stain in the carpet.

"I think it's kind of sexy," His girlfriend mumbles, and Branch's heart leaps into that dizzying flame it always finds around Poppy Springs. His mind goes efficiently blank.

"I-uh... _What?_ Poppy, you are _so-!_ " Branch slips into an ugly laugh, and Poppy snaps her gaze back to his, gasping through her grin.

"I'm so _what?"_

Branch playfully purses his lips as he stares up at her in thought. "Fucking freaky," He ponders reverently.

"Oh please, you find me attractive in weird ways, too!" Poppy snaps, leaning down, and Branch could count every freckle if she gave him the time. She lowers her voice dangerously, sending a searing heat up Branch's neck.

"Don't lie, dude, I know you have the lamest obsession..no, _addiction_ to _all_ of the freckles on my body," Branch closes his mouth. She was fucking right. "You take forever to give me hickeys, and that's because I put on that signature lotion you like and you sit there for at least ten minutes smelling it! And even if I do so much as peck you on the lips you pop open your mouth for a French sesh. Who's freaky now?"

Branch manages, "S-Still you."

"Oh?" Poppy's voice is laced with something that makes Branch's bones weak, but he does not relent. He will not.

"Exhibit A, my ass."

Poppy narrows her eyes, her breath dancing against his lips. "Exhibit A 2.0. _My_ ass."

"My calves. Hell, my body in general," Branch shoots back, breath uneven.

"My body in general too! You can't keep your hands off me!"

"Shut up," He mutters in a daze, lashes lowering as his eyes meet her mouth, his hand sneaking around the back of her neck.

Poppy smirks hotly, "You can't even handle me being in the same room as you sometimes, my guy, which is why we only stay half the time at parties-"

" _Poppy._ "

"And you make the cutest little noises when we-"

" _Shut up,"_ Branch breathes and yanks her down, their lips crashing together like tidal waves, suppressed passion overflowing in the electric contact. Poppy squeaks, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, beaming at her boyfriend's sharp gasp. The kiss lasts until they can't breathe and they break, panting.

"Mm..I love you," Branch sighs, gently nipping her lip. She giggles, and Branch feels like the raging feeling for her in his heart could rival the sun.

"I love _you._ "

Branch smiles as she leans in to capture his lips again, their soft, blissful giggles filling the room.

Yeah. He likes these afternoons.


	2. don't move

**a/n: hi guys! here's some GOOD OL fluffy family stuff! this features their oldest, rose holloway, named after her great-grandmother, at age five. reviews are awesome! thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _ii. don't move_

* * *

 _"_ Poppy, I swear to God-"

" _We're dead, we're dead, we're dead,_ " Under Poppy's breath comes a frantic whisper ending in nervous giggles, her fingers fisting the front of Branch's sweater. Glaring at what little he could see, Branch pulls Poppy closer to him, risking the coats shrouding them and hanging on the racks to rustle. He feels her anxious peppermint breath hitting his neck, and he shudders, exhaling slowly.

"If you don't shut your _damn mouth_ ," Branch hisses, an impulsive smile looming over his lips in a faint twitch, "dead is what we're gonna be."

Branch practically sees her head snap up to frown at him, he practically hears the tone of the stubborn, fiery retort that's about to commence, Poppy's mouth opens and -

The doorknob turns. It rattles with effort before the door swings open, sending Poppy's retort into a panicked wheeze that beats against Branch's hand rising to muffle her noise.

Light bleeds in and careful footsteps pad the closet's carpet. Everything goes still.

Branch thinks, _We're in some deep-dished shit,_ and Poppy's grip on him tightens, amber eyes widening.

A little hand suddenly yanks back heavy jackets and coats to the side. The found yelp in unison. Branch and Poppy are exposed, locked together in a stressful, upright pretzel.

" _Found you!"_ Rose Holloway squeals, excitedly hugging her plush elephant to her chest, bouncing on the tips of her toes.

Poppy untangles herself from her husband and dramatically falls to her knees, wailing a dramatic, _"Noooo!"_ , her fists risen and shaking towards the ceiling. "I thought it was such a good hiding place, too!" Giggling, their daughter sits to comfort Poppy in her lament.

"I guess I'll never beat you at hide-and-seek," Poppy mourns, gently pulling Rose onto her lap, "You're too good at it."

Branch joins them on the floor. "Mom is right, you _are_ too good at this game," He grins and leans in towards them, kissing his daughter's forehead.

" _But.._ " Branch pretends to be aloof.

Rose's smug brow furrows curiously, round eyes flicking upwards. "What?"

"I'm the best at another one."

Poppy snorts, her smile wide and amused. " _Aaand_ what game would that be? Seeing how many 'Caution: Wet Floor!' signs you can set up in the grocery store?"

"What? _No!_ "

Rose's laugh cuts off at Branch's glare.

Branch pretentiously huffs, "It's called," He pauses for effect, the sly smile curling on his lips causing Rose to kick her feet in anticipation. "Tickle fight!"

His treacherous fingers spring into action, attacking Poppy and Rose in full, tickling force.

The laughter and squeals and shrieks that followed were, to Branch, the happiest sounds in the world.


	3. its already there

**a/n: happy weekend! here's a branch vent! thank you for the reviews, follows, and favorites!**

 _flowersforfanfics:_ AATHANK YOU SO MUCH AWW! that means the world to me, it really does. I LOVE YOU

* * *

 _iii. it's already there_

* * *

 _"Happiness isn't something you put inside, it's already there! Sometimes, you just need someone to help you find it."_

* * *

Branch won't write about her anymore.

He won't write about the way prismatic flowers bloom in his heart when she walks by. He won't write about her eyes, captivating and warm and beautiful. Branch won't describe the light in her smile, in her laugh, in her voice. Because if he does, that fire in him won't die.

The fire isn't big, like the hazardous bonfires some members of the Snack Pack put together every year to burn school textbooks or final papers. It's modest and small, resting in the back of his chest, steadily growing every time Poppy says his name.

He wants to fucking stomp it into the ground.

God, does he _try_. He'll crush it right under his foot with every glare sent her way, with every deprecating remark, and every damn leave-me-alone-I-genuinely-dislike-you vibe. Branch swears it's gone after merciless destruction, but Poppy greets him the very next day, vibrant in her breathtaking smile. Traitorous goosebumps will creep up his arms. And the flame burns the bottom of his hypothetical foot attempting to distinguish it.

Because Branch doesn't want to glare at her, or discourage her, and his genuine feelings for her are far from antagonism. Far, _far_ from it. He knows he won't write about her anymore, but he _will_ write about her anyways.

Before he can stop it, his pencil etches Poppy Springs into a decrepit, weary notebook. And Branch is hunched over his desk, solely illuminated by a lamp, for hours in the dark, mumbling things to himself that he'll never tell her.

The fire he keeps hidden away, however, is much bigger than Branch likes to believe.

Poppy's expression will crumple under another crushed invitation.

Branch will keep every detail of her offering in his memory so he can tape up the ruin he caused when he's alone.

He'll make sure she's going home safe from an ill-advised party after one drunk phone call.

Branch will see that she's doing alright on her rainy days, and he'll keep an eye on her shady, slithering boyfriend if it kills him.

And once he's alone, _he won't write about her._

But he does.


	4. for everything

**a/n: i am the queen of posting oneshots i wrote during the christmas season in february. all au's are valid okay? even christmas ones...during february..** **i'm sorry.** **this isn't too holiday-centric, anyways. just 'poppy thoughts' a few months after she and branch are married. (if you're enjoying this at all, reviews help me update faster...cough, cough) thanks for reading!**

 _flowersforfanfics:_ THANKS A MILLION FOR THE SUPPORT i love you very much! even though you've READ ALL OF THESE BEFORE LMAO i will keep updating, for you.

* * *

 _iv. for everything_

* * *

She wakes up in warmth, the comfortable kind that entwines around every limb and poses an incredible argument to ditch the whole let's-get-up-today thing. Poppy is glad she's at liberty to take a vacation from life's troubles, just for a little while, because his arms are draped snugly around her waist and his even breath tickles the side of her neck.

Poppy consciously traces the side of his jaw and digs fingertips through his dark hairline, tenderness pulling the edges of her mouth as Branch sighs peacefully, nestling deeper into her body.

It's their first Christmas tomorrow, as husband and wife. Poppy doesn't know why she keeps taking note of firsts, they've done this stuff before. Only.. not with a promise wrapped around her left finger and the person that matters most completely belonging to her. Branch would scoff at that thought, since "Poppy, I've always belonged to you.", but she knows he enjoys the sentiment just as much as she does. It's put on paper now, like a scrapbook.

Branch mumbles in his slumber and Poppy bites her tongue to hold back an adoring snicker.

He was never what Poppy expected, but now that Branch Holloway is in her life, for good and all, forever and ever, Poppy cannot imagine anyone else taking that spot. No one else could possibly whisper gentle, vulnerable "I love you's" at two in the morning, could press their lips on hers, could hold her hands like she was their sole anchor, could have all of her. No. No one could. Just him.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest stops, and Poppy glances down to see exalting blue eyes gazing up at her sleepily.

"Hey," She smiles, inhaling as he shifts upwards and presses his doting mouth under her ear.

"Why are you awake?" He sits up, still leaning into her.

"I can't sleep before Christmas!" She squeals, chuckling at Branch's tell-tale flinch.

"Should've known." Branch lets his eyes flutter close as she snuggles into him. It's silent except for snow-drifts knocking on the window panes, quiet as slippers on carpet.

"And.." Poppy says quietly, Branch shifting his pleasant gaze to her. "I'm just excited." She bites her lip.

His smile is crooked and fond and warm enough to grow fields of flowers. "For what?"

Poppy locks eyes with him. She studies every part of his face, and knows he's doing the same as his eyes shift across her expression. Her heart swells. "For everything... Do you feel that way, too?"

Branch's eyes seem to glisten and immediately Poppy presses her mouth to his, their lips reflecting in serene smiles. "I do."


	5. elf au

**a/n: some recent reviews really helped me muster up the courage to post some stuff I've been writing over the past year! thanks guys. those really helped! here's a self-indulgent Elf au a few days after Christmas!**

* * *

 _v. elf au_

* * *

Poppy is an elf. Well, no, wait, scratch that. She's a human _raised_ by elves. Also Santa! Santa raised her, too! Papa Elf told her not many humans are raised at the North Pole. The North Pole is cold, loud, and busy! New York City is cold, loud, and busy too, so Poppy didn't understand why the elves and Santa wanted her to venture back to her roots. Well..she didn't understand _until now._

She chews on her lower lip, her heart feeling like melted marshmallows in steaming hot cocoa. Because standing on a ladder, mutely hanging well-thought decorations on a Christmas tree, is an _angel dressed in elf's clothes._ He's beautiful. And his _eyes,_ they were _so blue_. Poppy has never seen such an electrifying blue in all of her life, the only blue that came close was when Biggie the Elf got hypothermia and had to cut off one of his toes.

The beautiful man sets one last dazzling ornament on the tree, and she's too amazed to stand by.

"Wow," Poppy bounces forward, admiring his work with a grin before admiring the rest of God's work that is his person, "My man, you are _really good_ at decorating that Christmas tree."

With furrowed brows, he frowns and glances down at her, his eyes flicking Poppy up and down. "Who the hell are you?" She opens her mouth to speak, but he continues, "Are you messing with me? Did Guy put you up to this?"

Poppy tilts her head eagerly, "Who's Guy?"

He's cautious, " _Right._ You know what, I don't even have the patience for this," He climbs down the ladder, the bell on his elf hat jingling. Poppy gets a whiff of freshly baked cookies when he brushes past her to adjust the presents under the tree.

Holy _shit! He smells like cookies too! What kind of Christmas miracle?!-_

Poppy grins, tentatively stepping closer, "I'm Poppy! What's your name?"

She hears a faint scoff and he whirls around, a little incredulous as he answers her question anyways, "I'm Branch. Can we get back to work now?"

Gee, he was a bit of a grumpy-pants but...

Branch. _Branch._ Her heart sang. Maybe traveling to New York City was meant to be after all!

Branch blinks adorably from the ground, as if waiting for her to answer.

"Hm?" Poppy giggles, caught in an endless giddy sway.

His dead-set face softens, and Poppy's heart swells in her chest. Lookin' all warm and nice like that is _definitely_ a good look on him.

"I uh," Branch clears his throat. "I said we should get back to work."

"Ooo! Okay! That's fun!" She kneels down next to him quickly, "What should I do first? How many etch-a-sketches do ya need?"

He frowns, "None? We got a shipment in this morning. I guess.." Branch glances away, surveying the room, his eyelashes dark and oh _roasted chestnuts_ he had little tiny freckles dusted on his cheeks. "You could help cut ribbon. Chef is really anal about ribbon."

"I'm _amazing_ at ribbon!" Poppy squeals. She takes his hand and drags him to his feet.

"Great," Branch wheezes, oddly fixated on their intertwined hands.

She always held peoples' hands but..she has to admit, his hands feel practically perfect. Obviously their fingers fit like puzzle pieces, so why does Branch look so perplexed about it? Poppy tugs on his arm confusedly. "Hey-ah? Branch? Where's the ribbon at?"

"It's over hands -" He flinches, that permanent glare gashing through their moment. He rips his hand from hers, briskly walking to the station. "It's over _here._ "

Branch begins to meticulously cut the crimson ribbon over a festive table, and Poppy skips over to join him, giggling to herself.

"Over hands," She mumbles cheekily, flat-out laughing at Branch's leer.

"Six-inches," Branch snaps. He yanks the ribbon she cut too long and with a snip of his scissors, Branch precisely shortens it to the desired length.

 _Hot damn._

"Psh," She rolls her eyes, snatching it back, but Poppy grins the moment she sees the tiniest hint of a smile grace his lips.

She likes New York City. She might even love it. And maybe, just maybe, someone needed her just as much as she needed him.


End file.
